A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 2)

The next day, I could barely keep my eyes open as I worked the leaves. I’d just intended to read a couple chapters. Then just until the exciting bit slowed down. Then…

Before I knew it, the sun was peeking through the window and the book was finished. It had been a wild ride, filled with treachery, sword fights, escape, and vengeance. The happy ending had been fantastic, and I couldn’t wait to read it again. Nyfain had chosen well.

“Finley…” Hannon popped out of the back door before looking down at the metal tins and buckets arrayed around me. “What are you doing?”

“Nyfain is making good on his promises, so I need to make good on mine. I’m making elixirs.” I pointed at a metal canister with a red stripe. “I have the demon sex magic-be-gone draught for the people in the palace.” Although they hadn’t been beset by the sickness, time had stilled for them. They didn’t age, they couldn’t have children, and they lived at the mercy of demons who’d sexually twisted them. I pointed at the metal canister with the blue stripe. “Nulling elixir for the other villages. The potency will wear off because of the travel time, but that can’t be helped. Plus, there’s more salve and healing stuff for him…”

“How are you going to transport all of that? How is he going to?”

“I’ll stow everything in a big bag for his dragon’s mouth. Might take a few trips, but it’ll be fine.”

He gave me a flat stare. “I told you so.”

“He’s not playing games. He really is making good on his promises.”

“Whatever happened to you hating him?”

I scowled. “Don’t worry. Give me five minutes in his presence, and I’m sure I will go right back to hating him. His personality is hard to take.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you should check on Dad. He’s plateauing. He’s weak as a kitten and groggy, but that’s to be expected, given how long he was on the brink.”

“I checked on him earlier. There are no visible signs of the sickness, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there in small amounts. It’s impossible to tell if he’s been cured without more time. I’m going to work on a weaker elixir tomorrow for Old Man Fortety down the street. He’s not nearly as far along as Dad, and he’s been asking all his neighbors to just kill him off before he starts wetting the bed. I figure he’ll let me try out a new concoction on him if I promise it might finally end his suffering. I just won’t tell him which type of suffering I mean.”

Hannon cracked a smile. “Wise. What time are you headed to the field tonight?”

My pulse fluttered. “Not sure. I need to check Nyfain’s chart. Late, though. I’ll go to bed early.”

A night bird cried out a warning as I worked my way through the Forbidden Wood. Gnarled trees lurked in the darkness, shadowy shapes hunkering by the small trail. Stars crowded the sky, but a slice of pale moon only gave weak light. My animal was right near the surface, helping me discern any dangers that might be hiding nearby. So far, Nyfain had stayed true to his word. The way was clear.

The enchanted birch rose in front of me, and everything in me said to go around it. It had been drilled into my head from an early age that to set foot in this wood was death. To get out was lucky. The tree’s habit of shaking like some clown on drugs was not great for my comfort level. But Nyfain had said he’d run to help if he thought I was in danger. Plus, I had a shiny new dagger, thirsty for demon creature blood. Or maybe that was just my animal.

The tree started up like a dancing girl trying to shake her boobs out of her dress as I ducked around it and darted to the bush. Nyfain’s smell zinged through me, heavy in the area. It wasn’t as fresh as it had been yesterday, but it was more plentiful. He’d lingered.

I reached into the bush and then yanked my hand back. The yellow package had been filled again.

Biting my lip, suppressing a smile, I hooked my fingers through the brown string and carefully dragged it out. I pulled at the end and then disentangled it off the package. Another parchment lay folded up inside, over an additional leather-bound book. My stomach fluttered.

His writing was not nearly so delicate this time. A bit of a mess, really, as though he’d brought the supplies and written it here, crouched down next to the bush.

Dear Finley,

I remembered seeing a romance novel in your house, grouped with the book on our people’s history and poison trees, and wondered if maybe action/adventure wasn’t within your interests. I therefore brought you a book from my mother’s section of the library.